“Is it true that your Uncle Godfrey is going to make you his heir?” she asked, as she dried her eyes and brightened up a little; “I heard something about it from old Miss Holroyd.” “No, he offered me a large allowance if I would cut the Service and marry.” “And what did you say, George? I hope you promised to think it over.” “I thanked him, and declined. I have enough for myself. I have no idea of marrying, and I mean to stick to the Service, as long as it will stick to me.” “If you ever _do_ marry, dear, I hope you will get a good wife. Marriage is a great lottery, and there are many blanks----” One of these blanks now walked into the room in the shape of Major Malone, followed by a tray of light refreshments, also by Cuckoo, red-eyed, but tranquil. George poured out a glass of wine, and carried it to his mother, whilst Cuckoo helped herself generously to macaroons, remarking, as she did so: “Denis says that sherry is _poison_--eighteen shillings a dozen--don’t you touch it; it’s only kept for visitors; we never have supper like this when we are alone. These are lovely macaroons,” speaking with her mouth full. “Cleary, the grocer, grumbled about giving them; he is owed _such_ a bill, and he says----” “Cuckoo,” roared her father, turning on her a countenance charged with fury, “I have told you once before to-night to hold your tongue. Upon my word, Lucy, I believe that girl is possessed of some devil. I shall pack her off to a reformatory one of these days, I swear I shall. As to Cleary, the grocer,” now blustering and helping himself to a stiff tumbler of highly-coloured whisky and water, “he is uncommonly proud of my custom, and thankful to have it. It was my father who first set him going, and without the Malones of Bridgetstown he would be in a very poor way.” (Thanks to the Malones of Bridgetstown, he _was_ in a very poor way.) The Major had a notion that tradespeople actually considered his orders a high compliment, and fully equivalent to cash, and when he strutted into a shop, be it tailor’s, saddler’s, or grocer’s, he selected largely of the best. He did not comprehend self-denial, nor why _he_ should lack anything that was furnished to men of ten times his means. Yet when creditors timidly ventured to ask for their little account, he considered it a most impertinent liberty, as if they were begging for _his_ money. He was not at all sensitive about debt; he owed bills for years to his wine merchant and tailor, and had not the most remote intention of paying them. Ready cash could be laid out so much more pleasantly and satisfactorily. Besides, when wine has been drunk, and coats worn threadbare, is it not a cruel hardship to have your immediate attention requested to a very stiff account?